


Stages of Life, Stages of Love

by Sira



Category: For All Time (2000)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-17
Updated: 2012-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 08:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sira/pseuds/Sira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fluffy exploration about what might've happened after the movie. And yes, I mean it, this fic is as fluffy as they come. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stages of Life, Stages of Love

**Author's Note:**

> All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> I want to take the chance to thank the awesome ufp13 . She typed this handwritten story for me and also picked out my mistakes. Thank you, hon! *huggles* All remaining funny and not so funny mistakes are mine.

I

He loved her. It was simple as that, yet nothing was ever easy when it came to his feelings for Laura. So many emotions were connected to the delicate woman who had her head bent over her handiwork. It was a scarf she was knitting for him. Since the day she had accepted him into her life, it had happened more than once that he’d found himself shaking his head because he still couldn’t believe his luck. This life, it was truly his reality now. He had come home, had found his home in the past, here, with this strong, beautiful woman who seldom allowed herself to be vulnerable. Life had pushed her to her limits time and again, had forced her to fight for her survival, the survival of her family in a world dominated by men. Still, it hadn’t hardened her, not to the beauty of life, of love, her smile still coming easily. He loved to see her smile, couldn’t get enough of the way it warmed his heart.  
“You shouldn’t be watching me all the time,” she gently chided him.  
“How do you know I’m watching you?” he teased her.  
“I can always feel your eyes on me.”  
“Don’t you like it?”  
She gave him a quick, soft smile. “Oh, I do. But I’m hardly that interesting. Why don’t you find something worth looking at?”  
Did she really have no idea that his heart belonged to her, only to her, that he could never tire of watching her?  
“There’s nothing I’d rather look at than my wife.”  
It earned him another smile, a fully-blossomed one this time. His heart began to beat faster in his chest, and he was hard pressed not to get up and take her in his arms, to kiss and touch her, to lose himself in her. Laura. His wife. How had he deserved such happiness?  
The twinkle in her eyes told him that she knew what he was thinking.  
“Why don’t you go and do something worthwhile, make yourself useful?”  
She was right, he couldn’t linger all day. He got up; but allowing himself a small smile, he told her this discussion wasn’t over yet. They would continue it when they were alone later, when they would have all night.

***

II

The soft candlelight flickering in the light breeze coming in through the open window made her skin glow. She was radiant, and hearing her hum in quite contentment made him wish he could make love with her all over again. He couldn’t get enough of her. To join with her meant more than merging flesh. Making love with her was as much, if not more, about emotion as it was about desire. He loved her, wanted to show her his feelings in all ways possible.  
Her hand reached out for him, cupped his jaw, her thumb dancing over his lips in a touch that was so light it felt like the wings of a butterfly touching his skin. His eyes searched hers, found them alive with happiness. How could anyone feel like bursting from feeling while being utterly in peace with oneself and the world at the same time? How could he have gone on for so long without knowing how true love felt?  
When her thumb passed his lips once more, he closed his lips around it, sucked it into his mouth, his tongue running along the tip of the slender digit. She hummed again. He knew they needed their rest, that they’d have to be up way too soon; still, he needed to bare her to his sight again. Reaching for the blanket, he pulled it away slowly, revealing inch after inch of her creamy skin, wondering how anyone could be so perfect. Yes, he was blinded by love, in no way objective, but he didn’t need to be. This woman was his to enjoy, so he would. Wanting, needing to feel her, he trailed random patterns down her arms, along her back, painted words of love on her smooth, nearly flat stomach. There were so many things about her which had him enthralled, and he didn’t know where to look first. He was an artist, and to him, this woman was a piece of art. So often, he got lost in details when he looked at her, but she didn’t mind, allowed him the freedom and time to roam her body with his eyes, hands and mouth.  
This night, his eyes followed the sinful curve of her hips to her shapely behind, but way too soon, he felt himself getting restless. He didn’t only want to see her but feel her, hear her as well. So he ran one of his hands up her body, trailed a path over a breast before a curious finger stroked a dusty pink nipple, drawing a tiny gasp from her. Laura might not know it, might not believe him, but she was a picture of pure sensuality, and although he knew he wasn’t up to making love with her as he wanted to, he could still show her what she meant to him.  
He kissed her without any hurry, explored her mouth, and as tender as he could be, he caressed her, touched her from the outside and the inside, swallowing her tiny cries and gasps of pleasure, his heart swelling with love and pride when she came apart, secure in the knowledge he would get her.

***

III

Sundays were his favourite days. It was their only day without obligations. There was no newspaper to get out, household chores were kept down to a minimum. These days, the family would go to church together – something Charles hadn’t done in many years – and spend the remainder of the day outside if possible.  
Today, it was raining, though; the coldness of the winter not really inviting them to spend their day anywhere other than inside the house. However, it didn’t diminish his mood or the peace he felt at being with his family. Laura was reading a book, and he had begun drawing Mary and her grandmother who sat in a corner, knitting and talking quietly to her granddaughter. It made Charles smile. Mary was more of a tomboy, and to see her calm, nearly serene was an exception.  
Feeling eyes on him, he turned. Laura watched him, a fine smile playing around her lips. He quirked his eyebrow, which caused her to laugh quietly. She looked down at her book for a moment, then back at him.  
“You really like children, don’t you?”  
He nodded. Why should he deny it? When he had married, he had always thought his wife and he would have children one day, had looked forward to it. He had believed her when she had told him, she only wanted to work a few years first, had believed her when she wanted to settle in a house of their own before starting a family. One day, looking out of the window during breakfast, he had realised it would never happen. It hadn’t been meant to be. He hadn’t talked to her, had listened to her excuses, his heart feeling just that bit heavier with each of them. Now, he had Laura and Mary, felt complete in a way he hadn’t before. He was in love with his family, in love with his wife.  
“Yes, I do,” he answered.  
She gave him another smile, shrugged – a cute little gesture. “I’m glad.”  
He turned towards her so that he could touch her shoulder. “You didn’t doubt, or better said, you don’t doubt I love Mary as if she was my own, do you?”  
Her gaze met his, and she looked a bit hesitant. “I’m not talking about Mary.”  
“What else?” He felt worried. What was it that bothered her? She didn’t need to worry, could tell him whatever it was. They would face it together, no matter what. He watched her taking a deep breath.  
“I think I’m expecting a child.”  
It all crashed into him at once, the feeling of shock, the feeling of elation, a slight flash of panic. Had she really said he’d be a father?  
“A baby?”  
“Yes, a baby.” She watched him closely, her face a mixture of anxiety and amusement.  
“God, I love you and him or her.”  
He kissed her, put everything he had into this connection, not caring that Laura’s mother was clucking disapprovingly, that Mary was giggling. He’d be a father. It was a dream come true. He was the luckiest man in the world.

***

IV

She called him obsessed, and she was right. He was, couldn’t get enough of touching the soft swell of her belly. Every so often during the day, he passed her, placed his hand on her belly, still not quite believing their baby was growing there. Their child, something they had created together.  
He couldn’t help but wonder. Would it be a girl or a boy? Would he or she look like Laura or more like him? Part of him wished their child would inherit Laura’s eyes, her beautiful smile. Not that it mattered; all he really cared about was that both, mother and baby, would be healthy.  
A baby, a thought that scared him out of his wits sometimes, especially at night when he spooned his wife from behind, could feel the little one moving. According to Laura, he or she was more active at night. She teased him, told him it was the baby wanting to talk to his daddy.  
By God, he hoped he would get it right, could provide the child with what it needed. Would it be enough to give him or her all of his love, to have the best intentions, to try as hard as he could? Was it even fair to have a child borne into this world? Being from the future brought its own problems, was a curse at times. The world was changing, and he knew what it would change into. If their child was healthy and nothing unforeseen happened, it would live through the First and the Second World War. Even if their child was spared, what about potential grandchildren? Would one of them end up dead on some European shore? It were thoughts like that which bothered him, thoughts he didn’t want to burden Laura with. Maybe he was brooding too much, though, maybe there was no good time to grow up.  
The little one gave another rather forceful kick, and Charles began to rub his wife’s belly in what he hoped was a soothing motion. Sometimes, he wished time would pass faster, that the last three months of her pregnancy were over, and he could hold his baby in his arms. Sometimes, though, he wished he could stay in these moments forever.  
“I hope he’ll have your eyes,” Laura mumbled, half asleep in spite of the fact the little one tried his or her best to keep her awake. If she wanted, she could be stubborn with the best of them. If she wanted to sleep, she would.  
“Maybe it’ll be a little she.”  
“No, it will be a he, and we should call him James. Your father’s name was James, wasn’t it?”  
He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. Who was he to doubt his wife?  
“Should it be a he, we’ll call him James. That’s a promise.”

***

V

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, suppressing a sigh. She shouldn’t be working, shouldn’t exhaust herself. With their baby due so soon, she should be resting, not going on about life as if nothing had ever happened. She didn’t listen, and he could argue as much as he wanted to, she wasn’t going to relent. Instead, she would smile a soft impish smile, told him she was pregnant not ill. Still, he couldn’t help but worry. This woman, Mary and their unborn child were his life. So he kept an eye on her whenever possible, tried to take any task which would physically exhaust her from her. She laughed each time she caught him doing it, whether it was washing the sheets or cleaning the house. Well, she could laugh all she wanted as long as she let him do it. How did she do it anyway? Deal with her chores while her back must hurt like hell. She never complained. Never. Charles knew he wouldn’t have her strength if it was him carrying their child.  
He couldn’t help but watch her when she prepared for bed, slowly waddled over, her belly proudly protruding.  
“How are you feeling?” he asked when she settled in bed besides him, the mattress dipping under her weight.  
“Heavy.”  
It made them both smile.  
“How was it when you were pregnant with Mary?” he asked, wondering how her first pregnancy had been for her. The look she gave him was wistful, and when she spoke, it was with a certain reluctance.  
“Well, it was similar, yet different. For one, I didn’t take on as much weight as I did this time, and no one made such a... fuss about things.”  
“Wasn’t your husband concerned?”  
“Of course, he was, but being pregnant wasn’t and isn’t something out of the ordinary here.”  
Charles smiled ruefully. “I can’t help but worry. And how could I not?”  
Without conscious thought, he placed a hand on her belly, massaging the taut skin with tender strokes.  
“I need you, Laura. I couldn’t bear to lose you.” He wasn’t stupid, knew how many women died in childbed.  
“You won’t lose me.”  
She nestled into his embrace, and they lay like this for a long time.  
“Charles?” she asked after a while.  
“Yes, love, what is it?”  
“It’s going to be time soon.”  
He knew at once what she meant, and his heart began to beat faster in his chest.  
“When?”  
She shrugged. “I don’t know, but it will be soon.”  
“How do you know?”  
“I can feel it.”  
It was enough of an explanation, and he held her even closer, felt excited, terrified. For the first time in years, he silently prayed, asked God to keep his wife and his child safe. Spontaneously, he moved and breathed kisses onto Laura’s belly, determined to make the most of the last hours, last days. Looking up at her, he found the same thoughts mirrored in her eyes.  
“Make love to me,” she whispered quietly.  
Her request scared him, and maybe he should refuse her, but he didn’t want to. So his lips found hers in a tender kiss. It was languid as it should be. They had all night, and he’d make sure to worship every inch of her.

***

VI

She was in pain. It was obvious in the way her breath came in gasps, her whole body tense. He shouldn’t be here, she had tried to shush him away several times, but he wouldn’t budge, conventions be damned. People might disapprove, but this was his wife who was in labour here. Hadn’t people told them it would be easier with a woman’s second child? She was in labour since hours, her contractions still minutes apart.  
Another peak of pain hit her, and she gripped his hand as if it were a lifeline. When she sank back into the pillows propped up behind her, he took the wet cloth out of the bowl, wrung it and wiped her sweaty skin. He had known it would be hard to see her suffer, but he hadn’t counted on it tearing his heart apart. If he could, he’d take the pain away from her, but as it was, he was helpless, doomed to watch and wait. When she wasn’t in immediate pain, he read to her, hoping she could forget the pain for at least a little time. In his times, they could have eased the pain, but here... well, it wasn’t good to play ‘what if’.  
When her contractions came more regularly, his mother-in-law came in, nearly dragged him out of the room, and Charles knew he had to give in. Laura’s eyes pleaded with him to understand, to not argue.  
Standing in front of the closed door, his hands curled into tight fists, and he needed a moment to register Mary who stood a few feet away, pale and anxious. He had to be strong, at least for her.  
“Your mother will be okay.”  
“Really?”  
For the first time since he had known her, she sounded her age and not like a miniature version of an adult.  
“Really,” he said, glad she didn’t make him promise. “Want me to read to you?”  
They curled up for what seemed hours, and he hoped she felt better than he did, but he doubted it. God, what had he done to Laura? He just turned a page when a piercing cry had them both sit upright. The crying continued, and Charles could hardly wait for the door to open. Finally, it did, and his mother-in-law nodded at him.  
“You can go and see her now.”  
The house fell silent, and when he got up, his feet felt like they were made of rubber. Why was everyone silent? What was with the baby? Entering their bedroom, he found Laura looked a mess – the most beautiful mess he had ever seen. She was tired but beaming, a tiny infant was suckling at her breast. Charles was speechless.  
“Come here, say hello to your son.”  
His son. James. When Charles reached out for him, his hand trembled.

***

VII

It was getting slightly cooler again. At least, it was warm enough to take a walk. Laura’s mother and Mary were waiting for them outside, and Laura wanted to pick up James from his cradle, but Charles stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.  
“Let me.”  
She smiled, stepped back, and he was extra careful when he lifted his son. James didn’t even stir, he seldom did when Charles picked him up. “Someone likes to be with daddy,” Laura used to say. With the baby on his arm, he turned to Laura who watched him, looking content. For another time in this new life of his, he was speechless. Was this all really true? He hoped it was. Didn’t he have everything and more? A job that fulfilled him, a family who supported him, two fantastic children, and a wife who meant everything to him. Laura Brown, now Lattimer, was the woman of his dreams, and whoever said dreams couldn’t come true lied.  
“Kiss me,” he said, not even knowing where this sudden urge to feel her close came from, but not questioning it either.  
She approached him slowly, leaned forward carefully to not rouse their son, and finally, he felt her lips on his. Tenderness, lust and love stirred in him in equal measure, and he pulled away from her, needing to see her face when he spoke the truth of his heart.  
“I love you, Laura.”

The End


End file.
